Not Like Other Men

The sun hung lazily in the sky over France. Men and women went about their usual work. All except for one man. He sat silently in a less often used room, just staring out the window.

"Arnaut, he's been in there for two days now."

"I know, Claire. He always does this after he fights in a battle."

"Arnaut, this could be serious! Someone needs to talk to him."

"Why don't you, Claire? You know him better than anyone."

"You should talk to him, Arnaut."

Lord Arnaut stared at his sister in disbelief.

"Me?"

Claire glared at her brother in annoyance. "Yes, you. I've never fought in a battle, I could not possibly relate with him. You should talk with him."

"And what should I say?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something." The look in Claire's eyes turned from annoyance to concern. "Please Arnaut," she whispered. "I'm worried about him."

Arnaut sighed. He knew that if it weren't for this man his sister would not be alive. "All right, Claire."

Claire's face brightened and she hugged Arnaut. "Thank you, brother. I'm sure everything will go fine."

Claire walked back down the empty hallway as Arnaut turned reluctantly to face the door. What could he possibly say to this man? He sighed and slowly opened the heavy wooden door. Marek turned when he heard the door open.

"Can I come in?" Arnaut asked softly.

"Of course," Marek answered with a little smile. "How are you today, Lord Arnaut?"

"I am well, thank you," Arnaut answered.

"You can sit down if you'd like," Marek nodded towards the small bench across from him.

"Yes, thank you," Arnaut strode over to the bench and sat down, still wondering what he should say.

For a moment they sat there in silence. Marek looked back out the window while Arnaut fidgeted uncomfortably. Suddenly Marek spoke in his thick Scottish accent, still looking out the window.

"Lord Arnaut, you've obviously come here to say something that you're not saying." He smiled over at Arnaut. "Whatever it is, you can say it."

Arnaut smiled at Marek. Then he sighed. Better to get it all out now then wait.

"You are not like other men, Andre Marek," he began.

To his surprise, and relief, Marek laughed.

"There's more truth to that then you know," Marek whispered. "Forgive me," he added. "Please continue."

Slightly confused, Arnaut went on. "Well, after every battle that you have fought with me in, you always come to this room and don't come out for several days."

"Oh, that," Marek looked down at the floor.

"You don't have to explain anything if you don't want to," Arnaut said quickly.

Marek shook his head. "No," he said softly.

He looked up at Arnaut. "No," he said again. "I don't mind talking about it. I actually think I would like to."

Arnaut waited patiently. Marek sighed, then began to talk.

"The first time I ever killed someone, was the first time I ever met your sister. The English were chasing us and I killed one of their soldiers. I looked at his face and I couldn't believe I had actually killed him. I couldn't help but wonder, did he have a family? Was there some little child that would never see his father again because of me?"

Marek looked at Arnaut with misty eyes.

"Every time I go into battle," Marek continued, "and every time a man dies by my sword I wonder the same things."

"I'm sorry, Marek," Arnaut said softly. "Do you then wish to stay out of battle?"

Marek shook his head.

"No. That is why I come to this room."

"Why?"

Marek gazed out the window once again.

"Lord Arnaut, tell me what you see out that window."

"I see a common market place," Arnaut answered after looking out.

Marek shook his head again.

"It is so much more than that," he whispered. "I see families out together. I see two boys playing, and children clinging to their mothers. And I see happiness."

Arnaut looked out the window again, wondering at the difference he now saw.

"I come to this room," Marek continued, "and I look out that window, and I remember why I fight. I fight to protect these people, so that I can always look out that window and see happiness."

Arnaut smiled.

"Thank you, Lord Arnaut," Marek said. "It was nice to share this with someone."

"No, Andre Marek, thank you. I will never look at battle or these people the same way again."

Arnaut rose to leave, then turned back to Marek.

"You are not like other men, Andre Marek," he said softly. "I respect that."

Marek smiled as Arnaut left the room. As he heard the French man's footsteps fade down the hall a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I come to this room," he said softly to himself, "and I look out this window. And when I see these people, and when I see Claire, I remember why I fight, and why I stayed."